


Smooth Jazz

by blonk



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Cop AU, Death, Detective AU, Gore, I'll add more tags as I think of them, Insane AU, Jazz - Freeform, Literal Murder, M/M, Murderer au, Not for the light-hearted, Police AU, Psychotic AU, Serial Killer Dream, detective george, detective sapnap, hella angst, okay despite george and sap being cops cops irl are still shit, serial killer and detectives au, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25888942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blonk/pseuds/blonk
Summary: Proper description and title coming soon.-Basically serial killer Dream au where Sap, George, and Bad are the detectives on his case.-This is all for fun! If anybody says that they're uncomfortable with stuff like this I'll take it down!
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), nothing big though - Relationship, slowburn - Relationship
Comments: 15
Kudos: 143





	1. Prologue

Jazz danced gently through the abandoned warehouse. It echoed, sounding far away. Crates and shelves were knocked over, spilling sheets of packing foam across the cold cement floor. Rats scurried about the strewn packaging, rummaging for food they won’t find. The lights briefly flickered on and off. They illuminated streaks of cherry on the floor, just next to the turned over foam. The arrows of blood led to a young child.

The child was propped up against the wall, leaning slightly on an opened box. Inside the box were his arms. Wet blood dampened the boy’s hair, making it stick to his face. His throat was slit, coating the front of his clothing and neck red. He sat in his own red pool.

Dipping his hand into the pool was a stranger. He hummed along to Paul Anka, slightly swaying back and forth to the music. He used the blood on his gloves to paint the wall the child was against. He took a step back from his mural, analyzing it. Satisfied, he smiled. He did not clean the blood off of his hands, but instead popped his painted fingertips into his mouth. He made his way to the warehouse doors, using his unoccupied hand to pick up his music player on his way.  _ “Put Your Head On My Shoulder,”  _ began to end as he left the warehouse, the last note resounding just as the doors closed.

The mural — a slightly off-center smiley face — dripped onto the dead boy’s head.


	2. Chapter 1

Dream kept his eyes closed as he heard somebody enter his apartment. He did not open them as he felt somebody sigh and plop down onto the couch beside him. Nor did he make any sort of movement.

“What’re you doing Dream?” George said. He reached over Dream and grabbed the TV remote, and turned on the TV. Some cooking show started playing — at least Dream could guess it was a cooking show from the sounds — and George immediately flipped to something else.

“Listening to music,” Dream said, with a shit-eating grin.

“Upside down?”

Dream peeked one eye open at George, who was still looking at the TV. Their shared apartment was comfortable — if a bit small. With George and Sapnap being major Detectives for the Police they probably could afford to have a better apartment, but they had grown attached to the place. The apartment that was always just a  _ bit  _ too hot, and always smelt of vanilla from the downstairs neighbour’s daily baking projects had chipped its way into the trio’s hearts. 

“What else is a man supposed to do?” Dream responded, his grin only growing.

He saw George smile and shake his head softly. “You’re stupid,” he said.

A moment passed before Dream paused his music and sat up. Twisting a bit so that he was facing the TV as well, Dream asked, “Where’s Sap?”

“He and Bad are finishing up with a witness.” George said, shrugging, “He shouldn’t be long.”

“You guys got a witness? Nice!” Dream said, lightly poking George’s side. He didn’t let his smile falter. George swatted his hand away, but as Dream laughed at his own pestering he felt George watch him. For a moment the air was wired between them. Dream broke it a second later, “Thought you had no leads though?”

“Yeah… we basically pulled at strings until we got lucky today.” George turned off the TV and dropped the remote, leaning back into the couch.

Dream nodded and busied himself with turning his music back on. Some random song began playing as Dream went into his own head. He didn’t think there even  _ was  _ a witness for them to find. Nobody else was in that warehouse. Or any of the others for that matter. Was somebody hiding in the shadows? Or worse, was he followed?

Dream forced himself to snap back into reality. He’ll overthink later — when one of the leading Detectives chasing him down isn’t right beside him.

“Want some music?” he asked.

“Dream, your music taste sucks,” George said, grabbing Dream’s phone from him.

“Says the guy who always plays Travis Scott!” Dream lurched across the couch, reaching for his phone back. As he moved George held the phone back, with — not surprisingly — some song by Travis Scott playing. The damn hypebeast. Dream landed with his stomach across George’s lap, arm reaching out for his phone.

Dream was just scrambling off of George — still going for his phone, when George tried getting off of the couch, sending Dream towards the floor. In his descent, Dream managed to get a fistful of George’s shirt and pull him down as well. George landed beside Dream, and the phone was still on the couch. For a second neither of them moved, before bursting into fits of laughter.

Detective BadBoyHalo — one of Sapnap and George’s colleagues and good friend of the entire trio — was staying over at the three’s apartment for dinner. Granted, the dinner was some Wendy’s he and Sapnap picked up on their way back from the Station, but it was dinner nonetheless. Dream and his three Detective friends sat at the kitchen island as they ate their Wendy’s. Sapnap, for the meme of it, had a kids’ meal.

“So I was thinking,” Bad started after finishing off his chicken nuggets, “with what the witness said, Plan C could work.”

George put down his soda and raised his eyebrows at Bad. “Plan?” he said.

At the same time Sapnap interrupted, saying, “Bad, it’s just Dream.”

“Still!” Bad said back to Sap, “It’s confidential!”

This happened quite a bit. As a citizen, Dream technically wasn’t privy to the details of the other guys’ cases. Every new case they had Bad would suddenly go tight-lipped, claiming confidentiality. Though, the guys trusted Dream and Bad’s secrecy would never last long. 

“When has Dream ever repeated anything we’ve told him?” Sap argued.

Bad paused for a moment, and Dream could see him trying to think of a counter-argument. “Well this is the biggest case that we’ve ever had!” he eventually said, “If word gets out people could actually die!”

“This—,” Dream interrupted, playfully reminding the Detectives that he was there, “This is a  _ delicious _ burger.”

George has been taking a drink of his Sprite as Dream had spoken up. He snorted and promptly cried, “Ah shit that got in my nose!”

“Pfft,” Sap said, also laughing, “George you idiot.”

Bad laughed along, but went back to the conversation a moment later. “It’s still confidential though.”

“Bad,” George spoke up, with an amused grin, “I’ve already told him.”

“George!” Bad said, “We’ve only had this case for a few days!”

George laughed awkwardly. “He was going to find out sometime,” he said.

“Still — George! Just…” Bad said, waving a hand around as he struggled to verbalize his thoughts. He sighed and continued, “whatever. What I was saying was that we have another profile for the murderer.”

Another?

Dream put his burger down and clasped his hands under his chin, tilting his head a bit — feigning casual interest. 

“Wait really?” George said.

“Yes really,” Bad said, pointing a fry at George.

“Mhm,” Sapnap had a mouth-full of food still but managed to say, “Basically the same thing as last time: male, tall, same green sweater and mask. All that really tells us is that this dude has a murder sweater.”

Oh, motherfucker.

“Did she ever say why she was there?” George asked, “Or, like, how he didn’t see her?”

“Drug deal,” Sapnap answered, “and didn’t want to be caught so she was hiding until the dealer showed. Or that’s the story at least.”

“What kind of killer would wear green?” Dream said, switching the conversation back. He needed to know what they knew.

“A dumb one,” George said.

“Yeah,” Bad said, “you would think that muffin would want to wear something that doesn’t stand out as much.”

The comment was left hanging in the air, only filled by the sounds of chewing.

“I mean,” Bad continued after a minute, “we could use that to our advantage though.”

“What’re you thinking?” Dream asked.

“Well it’ll be easy to spot him,” he said, “We could try to set up a patrol in the area he generally kills. Spot him as he’s moving the victim.”

“That’s kind of a big area,” Sapnap interrupted, “we’d need a lot of people on that patrol.”

Bad’s mouth formed a line as he thought. “He probably won’t be using the same warehouses twice. We could just not look around those areas.”

“I think it’s worth a shot,” George pitched in. 

There was a pause as the three thought through the possibility of a patrol, and Dream listened.

Sapnap shifted in his chair. “I’ll set it up when we get in tomorrow.” 

Dream laid awake in bed that night.

How had he missed their first description of him? Hell, how did they even get it? Dream genuinely had no clue. Regardless, this put Dream all that closer to being caught. If he changed his profile now — got something else to cover his face maybe — that would look too suspicious. Especially to Bad. 

Then the patrol. Dream supposed that it was easy enough to avoid. If they weren’t going around the warehouses he’d already used, all he would have to do would reuse a building. The problem was that if he suddenly started going to the same locations, it would be obvious he knew of the patrol somehow. Why would he suddenly start reusing locations if he didn’t know?

That was the issue with having intel on the police’s actions. It was extremely hard to not reveal that you do. It almost made Dream think that it wasn’t worth all the trouble he had gone through to get it. 

He had been friends with the three Detectives for as long as he could remember. He already knew that they were pretty loose-lipped about their cases, but it hadn’t occurred to him that he could use it to his advantage. It already had been a month or two since Dream had started killing when Sapnap mentioned how one of their coworkers was struggling with a case. A case that Dream quickly realized was his. Not too long after that, he realized just how helpful his friends could be, and hatched a plan.

It took a lot of effort to get his friends onto his case, but Dream managed to do it. Dream had decided that the most efficient way to get his case to his friends would be through the Chief of Police himself. The only issue was getting the Chief to transfer it.

So he hit up a hacker.

The man he contacted was pretty well known between criminals for his talent at retrieving blackmail. He went by the name TommyInnit. It took some deal-making, favours, and cash from Dream, but Tommy eventually found out that the Chief was having an affair. He was able to get screenshots of the Chief’s texts, and recordings of his phone calls with the other ladies. If photo and audio evidence weren’t enough, there were also clips of security footage Tommy had gotten a hold of. The clips were from a mix of clubs, bars, and skeevy hotels that put cameras in the guests’ rooms. They all painted the Chief’s hands red ten times over. 

All it took then was to confront the Chief.

The Chief’s office had been large. With bookshelves lining three of the four walls, an expensive plush carpet laid over hardwood, and multiple sitting chairs it looked more like an old-fashioned smoking room than an office. It even smelt of smoke. The only thing that distinguished it as an office was the desk and chair. But even that was empty of paperwork, pens, or even a computer.

Dream, wearing his usual green hoodie, smile mask, and jeans, sat on the Chief’s barren desk as he waited. He was covered in blood and wielding a butcher’s knife as well. If he was going to look like a psycho, he was going to do it damn well.

When the Chief — a large man with muscles and handlebar moustache — entered his office he had immediately pulled out his gun on Dream. The click of it cocking rang throughout the room.“Get the hell out of my office,” he had demanded.

Dream had smiled, just barely visible under his mask, and set the photos down beside him. “You might want to look at those first.”

He saw the Chief look down at the grainy photos and back up at him at least fifty times. “Who are you?” he spat.

“Just look.”

The Chief took a cautious step towards Dream and the photos. With his gun still trained on Dream, he reached one hand out to grab the photos. His face fell as he looked through the photos, and he quickly threw them back onto the desk. 

With a grin full of teeth, Dream had smugly watched the Chief’s reaction.

The Chief’s jaw set, and he put the safety onto his gun and hung it on his belt. His hand promptly curled into a tight fist. “What the hell do you want?”

Dream nonchalantly shrugged. “Eh, nothing big,” he said, “Just for you to suddenly decide ‘Detective’ Skeppy isn’t doing a good enough job with his serial killer case. And then, y’know, transfer it over to Detective BadBoyHalo, Detective Sapnap, and Detective GeorgeNotFound.”

Sneering, the Chief stood in place and puffed his chest out. Though Dream could still see his hands shaking. “The idiots?” he huffed.

Dream couldn’t help but laugh. He threw his head back, and the laughter was surely loud enough to travel outside the office. Dream didn’t care, it was late at night and he knew for a fact that they were the only two in the Station. But the Chief glanced towards the door and his hand waivered over his gun.

“Yes,” he had said a moment after recollecting himself, “the  _ idiots _ .”

The Chief was silent for a bit, until he uttered a low “Fuck you.” Dream’s smile only widened and he hopped off of the desk. For a moment the Chief and Dream stood beside each other. The Chief took a step back and gripped his gun again. “Just — Just get the hell out.”

Dream’s shoulders shook a little, silently laughing. He casually tossed his knife into the air, letting it flip before catching it again. “Think about it,” he said, grabbing the photos as he made his way towards the door. Though he made sure to leave one. The Chief had made no move to stop him.

Just outside the door, Dream pulled out his phone. With just a few taps, he ran a program Tommy designed for him, and Dream heard the soft melody of,  _ “We’ll Meet Again,” _ slowly start playing from inside the office.

Surely enough, Bad, Sap, and George were assigned a new case the next day.

Ultimately though, knowing the police’s next move beforehand was Dream’s biggest advantage — even if it felt too hard to hide. It meant that he could always be two steps ahead of them. It meant he’d know about any ploy to catch him before it had even started. It even meant he could indirectly push them in the wrong direction.

Though sometimes Dream’s thoughts strayed to the future. If any one of his friends figured out it was him that they were hunting, then Dream would be forced to do the unimaginable.

If that wasn’t an incentive to not get caught, Dream didn’t know what was.


End file.
